


And I Can't Forget It

by barricadebutts



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 11:56:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barricadebutts/pseuds/barricadebutts
Summary: The other man stands slightly shorter than Collins, dressed in an officer’s uniform with the Royal Air Force insignia over his left breast pocket. He’s got short cropped brown hair and eyes that Collins swears he’s seen before. Before Collins can smile back at the other man though, he’s turning around and glancing down at his phone that he briefly pulls out of his pocket to check the time.





	And I Can't Forget It

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song "My Friends" by Oh Wonder. I found their music along with Sleeping At Last surprisingly good to write to if anyone needs a suggestion.  
> Now for some thoughts:
> 
> -I believe I originally saw a general reincarnation au prompt somewhere in the Dunkirk tag on Tumblr a bit ago, so here's my contribution. I want to throw out there that anything that isn't 100% accurate to how the professional British world works is my fault.
> 
> -This thing took a good week and a half to write when it should have taken a few days because I had work and company the entire time, so it's been fun.
> 
> -I am aware that Collins' first name is the same as Tom Collins from Rent. The name popped into my head and I didn't figure out why it sounded so familiar until it was too late. I'm sorry.
> 
> -Also, the first 1500 or so words are based in reality to an extent, so if you're curious about that, I'll have a separate note at the bottom since they contain a bit of a spoiler for at first.
> 
> Lastly, I did not have anyone read over this, and although I read over it myself, I accept all spelling and grammar errors that may be left.

Collins is supposed to be in class in forty-five minutes, but the line at the bakery is taking far longer than the average day, and he still has to walk a good distance to his lecture hall. He has to walk a good distance to his lecture hall and get settled, but Collins’ window of time is narrowing and he’s getting impatient. He’s a good ten people from the front of the line, and the woman at the front currently seems to be ordering the whole menu and Collins wants to scream.

He thinks he must sigh impatiently because the man standing directly in front of Collins turns around and makes eye contact, a small smirk playing at the other’s mouth.

The other stands slightly shorter than Collins, dressed in an officer’s uniform with the Royal Air Force insignia over his left breast pocket. He’s got short cropped brown hair and eyes that Collins swears he’s seen before. Before Collins can smile back at the other man though, he’s turning around and glancing down at his phone that he briefly pulls out of his pocket to check the time.

A minute or so later when they’ve barely moved a foot in line, the RAF man in front of Collins turns around again, this time with more finality. He looks at Collins with a steady gaze that makes Collins want to shrink.

“I’m sorry,” the man says in a thick London accent. His voice is deeper than Collins expected. He waits a moment to hear the rest of what this man has to say, clueless as to what he could say, clueless as to what he could be sorry about. “You just look like someone familiar. Thought we may have met before is all.”

As soon as the other man puts an idea to his feeling, Collins realizes that he’s right. And not just about his own feelings being validated. When the other man tells Collins that he looks familiar, the other man also becomes familiar looking; as if by simply stating this fact has made Collins realize that he knows him from somewhere. He decides not to say anything about it though.

“Maybe I just have one of those faces is all,” Collins supplies instead with the lamest and most vague explanation possible.

This makes the other man smile though and gesture to the lanyard hanging around Collins’ neck. “You going to university?”

The question startles Collins before he remembers that he does in fact have his id card hanging around his neck from where he hastily grabbed it this morning, and his school bag strap slung across his chest. “Oh uh...yeah. I’m in my final year over at City.”

The man’s eyes seem to light up at the mention of the school, though his tone doesn’t seem to betray anything out of the ordinary. “Very nice. That’s my alma mater actually. Maybe that’s where I’ve seen you before.” Collins finds that he hopes that this man’s odd sense of familiarity isn’t just from passing by each other at school. He’d like it to be something more exciting than that. The man falls silent for a moment before shaking his head and speaking just as Collins goes to open his mouth to say something.

“I’m sorry I’m so rude. My name’s Jack Farrier, but most people just call me Farrier. Comes with the job and all.” Farrier holds his hand out and Collins reaches to take it almost immediately.

“Tom Collins. Short for Tomas, but you can call me whatever; neither bothers me.” Farrier nods and releases Collins’ hand, but Collins finds himself wishing that he wouldn’t. It’s an odd sort of feeling.

“So you’re Air Force?” Collins asks instead, filling the silence. They’ve moved up a bit in line and Collins figures he’s going to be late to his lecture, but he almost doesn’t care anymore...which is weird.

Farrier nods his head though and looks down at his outfit as to make sure he’s telling Collins the right information. “Yep. I fly out at the end of the week actually for a month. Routine stuff.”

“You know I actually wanted to be in the Air Force when I was younger.” Collins doesn’t know why he shares the little known fact about about himself-- maybe it’s to sound relatable. Whatever the case though, it’s out in the open now and Jack Farrier knows a childhood fantasy that he doesn’t share willingly anymore.

Farrier looks intrigued though, and Collins thinks that maybe that’s actually why he told him; not to be relatable, but to pique Farrier’s interest and get him to pay attention to Collins for longer. “Really? Why then and not now?”

“Yeah, learning about all that they did in the world wars and such back in school got me hooked. Even had a neighbor that was in the RAF. Umm, and then one day he didn’t come home and I realized that I didn’t want to do that.” Collins looks up from where his gaze has drifted down to his hands during the story and finds Farrier staring at him with something akin to sympathy.

If Farrier was about to say something though, it’s cut off by the cashier that they’ve now moved in front of without realizing it.

Collins watches Farrier order and can’t help but think that there’s something that seems so familiar about the other man. More familiar than just passing once or twice on campus. Rather something that almost seems like home. Maybe it’s the way his green eyes show every little bit of emotion, or maybe it’s the way he holds himself, upright and ready for instruction, but relaxed at the same time. Collins tells himself that that can’t be right though. He’s meeting Farrier for the first time today in this bakery by chance. They don’t know each other, and this isn’t some coffee date that they’ve set up between the two.

Not too long after Farrier gets up to the counter is it Collins’ turn. He orders his food half in a daze and walks over to where Farrier’s sat on instinct. It’s a small two person table, and Collins notices that Farrier looks somewhat surprised that he sits down. Immediately Collins wonders if he’s even welcome to sit across from the pilot.

“Oh..I’m sorry. Did you not mean for me to sit here? I can move if you want.” Collins is halfway out of his seat before Farrier gets the chance to stop him.

“No no no, please. Feel free to sit here. I just thought you might bolt after our conversation got cut off. You looked like you’d seen a ghost. I did want to say I’m sorry though, about your neighbor.”

Collins draws a blank with what to say in response. He supposes he was a little spooked at the cash register, but that was more about the confusion with himself on why he would give out information that close to him to a complete stranger. And now he doesn’t know what to say because he hadn’t thought that Farrier would bring it back up just to apologize to him for it.

“It’s just a risk of the job. ‘Sides, it’s not like you killed him.”

Farrier flashes a tight lipped smile and looks down at his hands sat on the table. Collins wants to reach out and touch them. He’s so absorbed in the small intricacies of Farrier’s appearance that Farrier has to call him back to reality and let him know that they’re calling his name at the counter. Farrier has a hint of a knowing smile on his face, which does nothing to help a rising blush on Collins’ cheeks.

When he comes back to the table, Farrier has a napkin and pen out to where he’s scribbling a chain of numbers-- his cell phone. He doesn’t get a chance to ask about it right away since Farrier’s name is called, but when he gets back, he picks up the napkin as if to hand to Collins.

“If you want to talk or meet up for coffee in the next few days, let me know. You know, if you don’t have too much homework.”

Collins stands there stunned at the sequence of events that he’s found himself a part of. Farrier folds the napkin and takes hold of Collins’s hand not gripping his coffee, placing the napkin in his uncurled fingers. Collins takes the napkin numbly and makes sure to close his fist when Farrier moves to let go of him. He finds himself nodding, a small smile playing at his lips. “I think I’ll be able to manage. Maybe it won’t take ten minutes to get up to the front next time.”

Farrier picks up his coffee from where he sat it on the table for a brief moment, and leans close to Collins’ ear on his way towards the door. “But then we wouldn’t have met, and where’s the fun in that?”

He’s gone before Collins can properly respond, leaving the younger man standing in the middle of the bakery with a coffee and a heavy book bag on his shoulder. Collins almost wants to pinch himself to make sure that this was all real.

\------

With the help of a good old fashioned power walk turned run at the last moment, Collins makes it to his lecture hall with approximately forty-five seconds to spare. He doesn’t get much of the first five or ten minutes while trying to discreetly get his life together in the back, but he does manage to eventually get the gist of what’s happening.

The rest of Collins’ day goes by with fair monotony. He does text the number that Farrier gave him if just to pass on his own phone number. They talk for a bit, but Collins has school work and Farrier has his own work to deal with. With a plan to meet for coffee the next morning, Collins doesn’t hear much more from him that night.

If Collins’ day was based mostly in monotony, his dreams that night are pretty far from it.

He dreams that he’s up in a plane and over an ocean. A feeling of claustrophobia hits him, and he looks around frantically, pulling at his harness and life vest strapped around him. Collins thinks for a moment that he doesn’t know how to fly a modern plane much less one as old as the one he’s in-- a Supermarine Spitfire by the looks of it. Nevertheless though, he’s still in the air, and then he’s in an aerial dogfight against two ME-109s.

Collins doesn’t even have to think about what he’s doing, he just does. When he finds someone on his tail, he calls out and hears the crackle of another voice over his radio-- one that sounds vaguely of Farrier-- tell him that he’s got him. The plane on him goes down and Collins doesn’t know whether he should cheer or sigh in relief.

And then the next thing he knows he’s getting hit up the side by the other ME-109 that they learn must have been chasing their flight leader into the sea.

The other Spitfire goes after the enemy plane, checking in on Collins as he fights with his plane to stay airborne. “No, I’m going down,” Collins hears himself saying to the other pilot-- to the Farrier sound-alike.

He thinks about bailing, he does. The other pilot even tells him that he’ll guard him on the way down. Looking down at the water though, the part of Collins that seems to know what he’s doing thinks that it looks calm enough to land on without being torn to pieces. He blocks out the other pilot’s inquiries as to why he hasn’t bailed, and he focuses on landing the plane without dying.

Aside from nearly biting his tongue clean through, the first thing that Collins realizes is that he’s alive.

His harness comes off easily, but when he goes to slide back his canopy to climb out, he’s met with resistance. Collins tries not to panic, and sticks his arm through to try and communicate with the other Spitfire that he’s stuck. Instead, all he gets is a friendly tip of a wind, and the other plane flies onward.

Scoffing to himself, Collins tries to pull the canopy back again, noting how the cold water begins to rise quicker the more he struggles.

Reaching for the flare gun he somehow knows will be there, Collins begins to slam the metal against the canopy roof, hoping that it’ll do something that’ll get him out of there.

But the water is rising quicker and it’s up to his chest now. He drops the flare gun and tries desperately to reach for it. The saltwater tastes bitter in his mouth, and it’s to the point where Collins is beginning to think he’s going to die. There’s no way out, and he’s going to die a cold death at the bottom of whatever body of water he’s in. He doesn’t even know.

When the water reaches as high as it’s going to, Collins doesn’t stop struggling with the canopy, because dammit he doesn’t want to drown. The salt hurts his eyes, but he keeps fighting until his mouth opens in a gasp.

Except the gasp ends with a gulp of air in his lungs as he’s shooting up in bed, a cold sweat covering his entire body. Collins can’t do anything for several moments except sit there and breathe in clean air that isn’t tainted with the smell of salt and gasoline.

Even when he’s caught his breath, Collins sits still for several moments, afraid that if he moves he’ll be back in that small Spitfire cockpit filled with water. He has no idea where the dream came from because he’s never experienced something like that. Even when his neighbor died he didn’t have nightmares like that. Nothing that vivid.

When Collins eventually looks at his phone he finds that it’s nearly seven in the morning, so instead of gambling with another bad dream, he gets into the shower with water maybe a little colder than normal.

The shower helps marginally, but by the time Collins gets dressed for the day and throws his required books into his bag, his hands are still shaking and he has a bit of a headache towards the back of his head. There’s something that’s still unnerving him about the dream, almost as if it’s actually happened to him before. Like an extreme case if déjà vu that Collins wants no piece of.

After popping a few Advils, Collins checks his hair in the mirror before grabbing his bag and trying his best not to slam his apartment door. He tries to take his mind to other places on his walk to the bakery, but it’s a lost cause. Collins even nearly steps out in front of a car because his mind is so muddled, but a strong hand on his bicep stops him in his tracks.

Gasping at the close call, he turns around to thank his would be savior and feels the breath leave his body when it’s Farrier standing behind him. Distantly Collins thinks that his headache gets minutely worse, and that he can taste remnants of salt in his mouth. He shakes his head as if to rid the delusions, and looks at Farrier’s now worried face.

“Woah there, you okay mate? You nearly walked out into traffic without a second thought. Would have left me hanging at the bakery.”

His hand doesn’t move, and Collins grips his book bag tighter. A ghost of a smile passes over Collins’ face as he unclenches a hand to rub at his eyes.

“Uh yeah. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Had a really bad dream and didn’t want to go back to sleep. Plus I’ve got a headache now, so it’s slow going.” Collins tries not to let the drowsiness or irritability that he feels slip into his voice, if only so that Farrier doesn’t think he’s not up to meeting him.

Farrier’s brows furrow, and he finally drops his hand as the light changes for them to cross the street. As they walk across the street, Collins notices that Farrier’s dressed in civilian clothes rather than a version of his uniform. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Collins wishes he’d stop there. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Collins sucks in a breath and thinks. He would love to tell Farrier about the terrifying almost déjà vu he seemed to have last night in the dead of night. He knows he shouldn’t though. As much as it seems that he can trust Farrier and that he feels like he’s known him for years, he hasn’t. The truth is that he met Farrier twenty-four hours ago in the very bakery they’re about to walk back into.

And yet, “I dreamed I was in a World War II Spitfire above the ocean. My plane got shot so I landed it on the water. Only when I landed it, the canopy wouldn’t open, so I’m pretty sure I drowned. I woke up before that happened though.”

Farrier’s silent for a few moments. He’s silent as he holds the door open for Collins and as the two walk towards the line. Collins wishes he would say something. _‘It was just a dream’_ or _‘Well you’re here, so it’s okay.’_ Anything. “Have you ever had a dream like that before?” He says instead.

Collins looks out across the shop and shakes his head with an absent mind. “Never. Not even after my neighbor died. Why do you ask?” His gaze comes to rest on Farrier’s face that looks oddly apprehensive. Collins wonders if he’s missing something.

“No reason. It’s just that I do sometimes, but I also did last night. So that’s an odd coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence. What was your dream about?” Farrier chuckles and motions for Collins to turn around. When he turns around, he finds that he’s in front of a smiling cashier waiting to take his order, and Collins blushes, embarrassed with having been caught so off guard.

Collins does his best to order with a straight face, but he can feel Farrier’s eyes on the back of his neck. Handing the cashier his card and turning around to step to the side, Collins catches Farrier look away from him as casual as he can. Collins’ headache throbs.

They sit at the same table as yesterday while they wait for their orders to be completed. Collins has barely put his bag down on the back of the chair when Farrier begins speaking to him.

“You don’t believe in coincidence, hmm?”

Collins looks up as he settles himself into the chair across from Farrier. “Not usually. There’s usually a reason that something happens the way it does. I’ve always found that to be true if you look hard enough at the evidence.”

Farrier hums in contemplation and goes to open his mouth before their names are called from the counter. Farrier’s up before Collins can even move, and then he’s back before thirty seconds have passed.

“So,” Farrier begins again, this time with coffee in front of him. “You don’t believe in coincidence because you say there’s always a way to explain it, yeah? Well while my dream last night certainly wasn’t as scary as yours, it sounds remarkably familiar.”

Collins raises his eyebrows in interest, leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. “Well do go on.”

A small smile flickers across Farrier’s face as he looks at Collins’ tense posture. “I was in a Spitfire,” Farrier begins, and Collins feels his worldview narrow. “A dogfight specifically. I thought it was pretty pleasant at first. But then the other pilot I was with got hit and had to bail. Well I mean, he didn’t end up bailing, but you know the rest, don’t you?”

Collins’ eyes are wide and he feels frozen in his seat. There’s no way that Farrier isn’t pulling his leg right now. That’s not how dreams work. His breathing feels shallow and Farrier’s sure smile slips a little bit. “Collins?” He asks, sitting up in his chair closer to the table.

“What else happened?”

“What?”

“Specifics. What else happened? How do I know you’re not fucking with me?”

Farrier’s eyebrows furrow as he appears to be thinking. “The flight leader went down by an ME-109, one of the two that came out of nowhere. You--” Collins flashes him a warning look, and Farrier changes pronouns. “The other pilot I was with got someone on him and I told him--”

“And I’m on him,” Collins murmurs almost to himself. He can’t think of any evidence to examine that could possibly explain the two of them having the same dream.

“Exactly. You drowned in your dream? You didn’t in mine.” Farrier looks concerned at how much Collins seems to still be shaken by the nightmare.

The revelation that maybe they didn’t in fact have the same dream relieves Collins minutely. Everything else is certainly weirder than Collins can ever hope to explain, but at least something was different.

“We can talk about something else if you like.” Farrier’s question goes unanswered, Collins too in his head thinking about all the possible and unexplainable reasons behind the dream. “Collins,” he calls softly, and Collins looks up this time.

“I’m sorry. I really am.” Collins tries his best to push the train of thought from his mind and actually focus on Farrier in front of him. Not the alleged Farrier in his dreams, but the one that he knows for a fact is real. “What were you saying?”

Collins sees what looks to be Farrier also trying to push the previous conversation from mind. Collins doesn’t think he looks as spooked as he feels himself, but it’s odd.

“How were your classes yesterday? I didn’t get the chance to ask.”

The smile that spreads to his face feels more genuine this time. “You’ll never believe it, but I got into class with forty-five seconds to spare yesterday morning. Had to sit in the back and everything.”

Farrier chuckles and takes a sip from his drink. “Do you not normally? Your annoyed huffing in line told me that you normally are pretty on the line.”

“Yeah unfortunately not. Usually I don’t have a problem with a line here. I guess that person at the front just felt like ordering the whole store yesterday.

“But my classes were good. I have a test in one next week and a meeting with my advisor on Friday. Can you tell me what you did at work yesterday, or is it super secret?”

“Nah, I just did some paperwork in preparation for leaving at the end of the week. Believe it or not, you still need a visa to leave the country even though you’re a part of the Royal Air Force.”

Collins snorts and looks at Farrier with amusement. “There’s no way you didn’t know that.” Farrier shrugs, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Also, if you have a test next week, shouldn’t you be studying for that instead of sitting here with me?”

“Shouldn’t you be packing for your trip?” Collins fires back in a playful tone.

Farrier shoots him a look and points an accusatory finger. “Touché.”

Collins almost forgets about the nervous feeling and his headache from earlier, though both still reside within him. Sitting here with  Farrier and just _talking_ almost seems to stir up a weird sense of déjà vu in an of itself, but Collins tells himself that it’s just because they sat here yesterday. They sat here and laughed for a minute-- yesterday. Except that it’s a feeling from years past, not twenty-four hours ago. Collins doesn’t know what’s happening.

Eventually Farrier has to swing by the base before actually getting things packed for his trip. He reluctantly says goodbye to Collins and tells him to let him know if he has any more weird dreams. Collins grimaces and heads off in the direction of campus and to an afternoon lab that he has in the science building.

\------

The dreams come again that night. It isn’t a full on nightmare this time, but Collins still feels fright. Taking in his surroundings, he realizes he’s on a smaller boat in the middle of an absolute war zone. But he finds that the fright that he feels isn’t for any of the men that are starting to swim for their boat.

The sound of a plane thunders past, and he looks up to see a familiar Spitfire chasing after an ME-109. Collins realizes with a jolt that the person in the Spitfire is Farrier. He doesn’t know how he knows, but the knowledge feels like it’s always been with him. Collins inexplicably knows in his soul then that the fear he’s feeling is fear for Farrier’s life. Fear that this enemy plane is going to shoot down his-- what, best friend? Collins thinks they’re friends, but a small and incessant voice at the back of his mind says that they’re something else, something more.

He shouts back at the captain of the boat that they’re getting into oil, and instead of helping men out of the water quicker, he keeps looking up to make sure that Farrier’s still up in the sky.

When Collins hears a string of machine gun fire, he looks up to see Farrier behind the ME-109. He pumps a fist into the air when he sees smoke and flames erupt, but his cheers die when he notes the likely area that the other plane is going to land in.

Collins looks back and forth a few times and then shouts at the captain to move. He feels guilty for leaving all of the soldiers trapped in the water, but he reconciles that it’s either a few or everyone. Collins still doesn’t like the trade off.

When the enemy plane hits the oil soaked water, the surface catches fire immediately. The first thing Collins notices is the heat. The second thing is the screams from the men still trapped in the water. He looks away and rushes to the edge to help the younger boy-- Peter, he thinks-- and together they pull one last soldier from the water. Collins looks for Farrier and notices him disappear in the opposite direction over the horizon. He finds himself sending up a quick prayer in the pilot’s favor.

Collins wakes up slower this time, but he still feels damp with sweat and even more on edge than last time. His clock reads 6:30, so he slumps back onto his back and takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

He comes to the conclusion that these dreams have to be a side effect from coming into contact with talk of the RAF again after so many years. It’s weird though, because Collins never thought himself or his dreams susceptible to outside influences that easily before.

The idea of sleep teases him the longer he lays in bed, but the incessant honking of commuters on the street below eventually rouses Collins from his bundle of sheets. It’s Thursday, and his two classes are cancelled-- one because the professor is sick, and the other because the professor has to conduct student advising appointments. Collins has no classes today and he feels like he’s floating on air.

To celebrate no class, Collins decides to open the window in his bedroom and let in some of the early morning coolness of a September day. He’s barely walked away from the window when he hears the backfire of a car down from below. Except he doesn’t register it as the backfire. It sounds like a machine gun from his dreams, and he finds that he’s flinging himself to the floor as if to look for shelter.

Several seconds later, Collins realizes what’s happened and finds himself more shaken than his recent dream. He has no idea why he would have reacted that way to the backfire of a car. He lives in London, and has for many years; the sounds of a car backfiring is not a new phenomenon. Did it sounds like gunshots? Perhaps. He thinks though that if actually heard a gun go off he’d mistake it for a car backfiring first anyway. Collins’ point is that there should be no reason that he would be crouched on the floor seeking shelter. Especially in his own bedroom. Something is wrong.

Collins crawls back to the window and props himself up against the wall underneath. He works on keeping his breathing even and runs a shaky hand through his sweat dampened hair several times, trying to steady his hands.

He zones out to the point where the ring of his phone makes him jump several inches, smacking his hand into the window sill. Collins stretches over to his nightstand and pulls his phone off the charger before collapsing back against the wall.

“Hello?” Collins answers without even looking at who’s calling. Usually he’s more careful about screening his calls, but he already feels too mentally exhausted from whatever the hell is happening to him to care.

“Collins? Did I wake you?” Farrier’s voice sends Collins’ stomach roiling, and he’s across the room and throwing up into the toilet before he knows what’s happening. He can vaguely hear Farrier’s voice from the phone next to him on the ground asking him what’s happening. He fumbles for the speaker button on his phone before speaking again.

“Farrier?” Collins asks, his voice hoarse. He feels like he’s gasping for breath as he wipes his mouth with a washcloth that he pulls off the counter above him.

“Collins what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Farrier sounds concerned, and part of Collins feels justified that he does. He didn’t start having these dreams until he met Farrier after all.

Collins shakes his head though, forgetting momentarily that Farrier can’t see him. “No,” he rasps out after a moment. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I feel like my head is imploding.”

He hears a rustling on Farrier’s end of the phone and then the other man’s back on the line asking him where he lives, because there’s no way that he’d be able to go about his day if he knew Collins might be suffering. Collins tells him his address with a half hearted protest, but Farrier isn’t having it.

“You’re sick, love. Where’s the spare key?”

Something inside of Collins drops at the nickname, but he pushes it down. “It’s above the door.”

“Collins… you’re old enough to know better.” Farrier’s tone is chastising, but Collins hears him say something to someone on his side followed by a goodbye to someone other than Collins. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Collins nods to himself and listens as the line goes dead on the floor. He watches the screen until it goes dark, and rests his head against the toilet seat. His head feels like it’s trying to split itself open. His whole body aches, and Collins can feel his hands shaking even as he presses them into his pant legs.

He hopes desperately that this is just a virus and has nothing to do with Farrier and these dreams. Collins doesn’t know how they could have anything to do with him, but at this point, he also doesn’t know how they couldn’t. Coincidences aren’t real, Collins thinks with a rueful chuckle.

Thinking back to his dream, part of Collins wonders what happened after he woke up. He wants to know what happened to dream Farrier, and what happened to those poor young boys on the boat with him. When Collins catches himself thinking about it, he tries to banish it from his mind and focus on himself in the now.

Sounds from the street filter in through the window, and Collins thinks he can almost hear air raid sirens from another time. When he shakes his head though, he realizes it was just a car’s long and impatient horn.

What certainly feels like more than fifteen minutes later, Collins is jolted from whatever stupor he’d been residing in by the sound of a key in the lock of his door. It’s another few seconds before he hears Farrier’s uncertain voice calling from the living room. Weakly answering, Farrier finds him a few moments later looking like death warmed over.

He crouches down next to Collins and sweeps the damp hair away from where it’s fallen into his eyes, and Collins is monumentally grateful.

“Farrier…” he breathes, barely able to get the other man’s name out.

“I’m here, Collins. I’m here.” Farrier’s voice has gone soft where it wasn’t yesterday, and Collins comes to the conclusion that this must be what Farrier is like in his caring mode.

He feels the press of a cool hand to his sweat dampened forehead, and then hears a silent curse. “Damnit Collins, you’re burning up.”

Collins feels his heart rate quicken, but he can’t tell if it’s from Farrier telling him one more thing that’s wrong, or if it’s something else. “What’s happening to me, Farrier?”

Collins watches Farrier lean away to take his jacket off, and he notices that he’s currently in his RAF uniform. Farrier had most likely been at work or at least on his way in, and now he’s in Collins’ apartment taking care of him.

“You’re sick, that’s all, mate. It happens to the best of us. Now come on, let’s get you back into bed.” He moves to help Collins up, but Collins shakes his head and takes a minute to breathe.

“Couch please. I can’t go back to that bed.” Collins has an irrational thought that maybe it’s his bed that’s cursed all of a sudden, and if that’s the case, he doesn’t want to have another nightmare. If Farrier thinks his statement is weird though, he doesn’t say anything.

Farrier nods though and helps Collins stand up, one arm wrapped around the younger man’s shoulder and the other holding onto his elbow. The walk to the couch feels like it takes five years, but when Collins sinks into it, he couldn’t be more grateful. And then Farrier is gone. Collins doesn’t realize that he calls out to him until Farrier’s walking back into the room with a pillow and blanket.

“I’m still here; just went to go get you some things to make you more comfortable. Do you have any soup I can make you? Might help make you feel better.”

Collins nods and tells him which cabinet he can find the soup in. He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until Farrier’s shaking him awake gently. “You okay, Collins? I have some soup for you. Thought you might want some.”

He blinks several times and looks at Farrier kneeling next to him. It takes Collins a minute to distinguish reality from dream, because he had seen Farrier when he closed his eyes. Except dream Farrier had slightly shorter hair and was laughing with him between kisses. Collins shivers at the thought. He takes in this Farrier though in his pale blue uniform shirt and navy tie, jacket somewhere else. Collins thinks that this Farrier could be dream Farrier very easily.

Nodding his head, Farrier helps Collins sit up on the couch before handing him the bowl. Collins’ hands are still shaking and he tries to take a deep breath to still them, but still they shake.

Farrier sits down next to him and rubs small circles into Collins’ back. Collins sighs in contentment and feels himself lean into the other’s touch in silent confirmation.

The soup is decent, and Collins makes it three quarters through before he decides he can’t eat anymore. Setting the bowl on the coffee table, Collins moves to lay back down again and remembers too late that Farrier is still sitting next to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Collins murmurs, sitting back up. Farrier catches his shoulder though and gently pulls him back down. Collins’ head lands in Farrier’s lap and he thinks that maybe he’s still asleep.

“You can stay if you want. Whatever’ll make you feel more comfortable,” Farrier says quietly, sliding a hand through the sides of Collins’ hair.

Collins hums and pulls the blanket closer to him. “You can turn the tv on if you want. I’ve got Netflix.”

“Netflix? I thought you were a broke university student?” Farrier teases, but reaches for the remote anyway.

Collins blindly swats at Farrier’s hand that’s in his hair and lets out what could almost be considered a huff.

Silence stretches between the two of them for several minutes, broken only by the sound of the news that Farrier turns on in the background. Collins decides that it’s nice. He can pretend that everything is normal like this and that he isn’t having weird dreams that leave him with PTSD-like symptoms.

Eventually Collins breaks the silence to talk to Farrier about his dream from last night. “I had another dream.” He speaks barely louder than the television, afraid of the admittance himself.

Farrier’s hand stills in his hair, and Collins feels Farrier’s eyes on him. “What was it?”

“What was yours?”

Farrier doesn’t miss a beat before responding. “I was flying again. Shot down a bomber and another ME-109. Eventually ran out of fuel and had to land my plane on a beach over France where I was taken prisoner. I think I was in Dunkirk.”

Collins tries to keep his breathing even, but he knows Farrier can feel every little shift in his breathing with him laying on him like this. “I was on a boat. I think I got out of my plane somehow and a boat rescued me. I only say that cause it felt like the same dream. But you were there again in the air and shot down an ME-109 into the oil covered ocean. Nearly set me on fire, you did. And then you flew away into the horizon.”

Silence, and then, “I don’t know what to tell you, Collins.”

“A car backfired this morning and I took cover thinking it was machine gun fire. A car horn went off and I thought it was an air raid siren. I don’t know what’s happening.” Collins turns his head so that he can look more directly at Farrier, and wishes he hadn’t when he sees the other man.

Farrier’s face looks like a mix between concern and knowing what the hell is wrong with him. “What?” Collins rasps. “You know what’s wrong with me?”

“No, it’s just that that sounds like symptoms of shell-shock from back in the 1940s. Are those dreams really affecting you this much that you’re bringing them back here with you?”

Collins does his best to shrug and turns back towards the television. “Maybe it’ll get better with sleep.” He knows that it should, but probably won’t. Farrier doesn’t say anything more and puts a hand back into Collins’ hair, combing through it slowly.

They don’t say anything else for quite sometime, and eventually they both fall asleep. Like his nap, Collins’ dreams aren’t that of nightmares. They’re almost promising in a sense. Flashes of him running towards Farrier on a tarmac after what must have been a successful mission give way to Collins pinned up against the side of a brick building with Farrier wrapped around him, breathing each other in in the colder air.

There’s a flash of Collins waiting on a boat dock for what he knows to be several hours with no one coming to meet him. Somehow he knows it’s after the mission to Dunkirk, and that he’s waiting for Farrier to never come.

A flash of Collins standing on a runway amongst a group of military officials and civilians settles for longer than the rest. They’re standing there, and then a group of various armed forces begin to exit from a plane a little ways away. Soldiers are already beginning to find family, and it only takes Collins a minute or two of looking to spot Farrier limping towards the group of people Collins is standing with. _‘Farrier’s family,’_ he thinks.

He should wait for Farrier to get over to them, but Collins has never been that patient. He takes off at a run and heads straight for Farrier. Farrier spots him and stops, relief flooding his features.

When Collins reaches him, he wraps Farrier in a hug tight enough to lift him off the ground several inches. Farrier’s arms grip tightly at Collins’ back, dressed in his own navy colored uniform. Collins doesn’t mean to start crying, but when he pulls away to look at his best friend for the first time in five years, he can’t help but cry.

Farrier’s eyes are filled with tears as well, and Collins wishes he could kiss him out here for everyone to see. Wishes that he could boast that they’re more than friends who haven’t seen each other in ages. Instead, he reluctantly lets go and helps Farrier to his family.

Collins wakes with a start to find his head still in Farrier’s lap. In the time since he’d fallen asleep, Farrier had taken his shoes off and set his feet up on coffee table. One of Farrier’s hands is resting on Collins’ neck and the other is propping his head up against the arm of the sofa. Collins thinks it all feels very domestic, but maybe that’s because it’s supposed to be. That’s what they were back then.

Suddenly everything makes sense-- the dreams, the déjà vu, the PTSD-like symptoms. What hasn’t gone away in Collins’ realization though is his headache.

He tries to move without waking Farrier, but it was never going to work anyway. Farrier wakes slowly, and when Collins looks back at him apologetically, he can tell Farrier knows everything too.

Collins gets up off the couch then and stumbles into the bathroom. He’s not sure if he wants to cry or throw up as he kneels by the toilet, but his hands are shaking again and he feels like his mouth is full of salt water.

Farrier moves slowly behind him and comes to a stop in the doorway. Collins looks up at him from the floor with new eyes and remarks how much he does looks like the Farrier from 1945. By the way he’s staring, Collins gathers that Farrier knows that he knows. Knows that they know each other, have known each other, will always know each other. That they’ve been reborn from the Jack Farrier and Tomas Collins of the 1940s.

“How long have you known?” Collins asks.

Farrier folds his arms and sighs. “Started piecing it together this morning. Figured it out for sure just now.”

Collins looks at him, puzzled as to how Farrier could have worked out something as abnormal as fucking reincarnation. “How could you have just worked that out?”

“My dreams have seemed like memories from the start, and based on how you’ve told me yours and how they line up, it seemed off. And then on the couch you talked about relating the car backfiring and honking to stimuli from that time period and reacting to it. Also I pay attention to science fiction.”

“Why don’t you look like me right now? Why don’t you look like your world is imploding too?” That’s one thing that’s really bothering him. Collins knows he’s only fully remembered for a few minutes, but they’ve been having the dreams for two days now.

Farrier smiles softly and walks over to the toilet where Collins is crouched, and sits down on the floor. He pulls at Collins’ wrist, and the taller man goes easily for as sick as he feels. Farrier pulls him into a semblance of an embrace where Collins rests his face in the crook of Farrier’s neck. He takes a deep breath and breathes in the smell of detergent and Farrier’s cologne.

“I’ve had a pretty killer headache for the past twenty-four hours, and I’ve felt a little more on edge, but I’ve already got a feel for the sounds that are giving you flashbacks. RAF, remember? I’m not exactly a stranger to the sound of machine gun fire.” He strokes at the nape of Collins’ neck and maintains a loose hold on the pulse point of Collins’ wrist.

“My headache’s already going away,” Collins mumbles, his voice semi-muffled by the fabric of Farrier’s shirt.

Humming, Farrier runs the hand that was on Collins’ neck down his back soothingly. It feels comforting and familiar, and Collins wants him to never stop. “I used to do this to you after the war. Do you remember?” And suddenly a memory crashes to the forefront of his mind of Collins on the floor of their shared apartment, broken and hurting. He always thought it was a bit backwards that Farrier, the one who had been held prisoner for five years, was the one comforting him. But there they were, and here they still are.

Collins nods and moves his unoccupied hand to run his fingers over the hand holding his. “I missed you so much. It hasn’t even been that long, but God Farrier, I’ve missed you.” He looks up into Farrier’s eyes and sees soft adoration that he remembers thinking he would never see again.

Using the leverage of Farrier holding his hand, Collins leans further into his space. Farrier meets him halfway, tightening his grip on Collins’ back in the process. The kiss is little more than a press of lips against lips, but Collins feels years worth of longing beginning to satiate.

Farrier sucks in a harsh breath through his nose and redoubles the kiss, moving his hand gripping Collins’ wrist to the side of his face, stroking on short stubble near his jaw. Collins is all too pleased to worry about stopping him, and just thinks of the fact that they get to do this all over again in a decade that’s more forgiving than the 1940s.

“I love you so much,” Farrier breathes when he pulls away to just take Collins in.

There’s a hint of a blush on Collins’ cheeks, and he can feel his pulse thrumming in his veins in a way different to the way he felt in his dreams. He smiles and can’t help but reach out and trace the outline of Farrier’s lips. Farrier’s eyes track his movements.

“I love you too, you know. I never stopped.” Farrier nods at Collins’ words and pulls him back towards him into a hug this time that’s too tight, but still not tight enough.

Eventually Farrier suggests that they get off the bathroom floor and move somewhere else. They settle on the couch in similar positions like before, except Collins is sitting up with his head leaning on Farrier’s shoulder, their legs intertwined out in front of them.

They flip through the channels on the television until Collins finally grabs the remote and turns on old episodes of some sitcom that they both decide they’ve seen before.

Collins is finally content. Fully, totally, content. He has Farrier back with years of history between them already. He’s allowed to have the kisses he had just dreamed of during his nap. He’s allowed to pin him up against a wall after only having met him in this life two days ago. It sounds odd, but it makes sense in Collins’ mind, and makes him feel safe.

Farrier’s cell phone goes off halfway through the current episode they’re watching, and Collins feels him digging through his pocket before cursing at the caller id. He takes a breath before answering as if to prepare himself. “Hello?”

There’s chatter on the other side of the phone, but Collins can’t figure out what they’re saying.

“Yes I understand.” A beat. “A friend’s house, sir. He had a medical emergency. I passed it through Flight Lieutenant McClain before I left and she informed me that I was okay to leave--” Farrier closes his eyes in defeat. “Yes sir. Yes I’ll be right there.”

Collins’ stomach sinks at the likelihood of Farrier leaving already. “I have to leave for a few hours. I can come back later if you want. My Squadron Leader is giving me a hard time about having to rush out earlier. Something about a briefing.”

“I didn’t know you were at work and left for me. I wouldn’t have let you had I known.” Collins feels bad because the last thing he wanted to do was get Farrier into trouble.

“I would always skip out on work for you, and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.” Collins rolls his eyes and smiles to himself as Farrier leans down to press a kiss to Collins’ head. “I’ll be back later, yeah? I’ve got to finish packing a few things tonight, but I can be with you.”

The reminder that Farrier is leaving for a month tomorrow smacks him in the gut. He had just gotten Farrier back, how was he supposed to just give him up again? “I forgot you had to leave,” Collins whines, not unlike a petulant child. Farrier chuckles softly.

“The time will pass quickly and I’ll be back before you know it. And then I’m off for a few weeks, and we can do as much or as little as you want. Deal?”

Collins knows he doesn’t really have a choice, but he nods nonetheless. He lifts his head and leans in to press his lips briefly to Farrier’s. “Try not to get into too much trouble,” he whispers in the space between their mouths, and Farrier smiles.

“I’ll text you when I’m done. Shouldn’t be too bad.” Collins lets him off the couch this time and he disappears into Collins’ bedroom to fetch his uniform jacket. Collins notes that he likes how Farrier looks coming out of his room in the process of getting dressed. He feels lighter just thinking about it.

\------

Once Farrier leaves, Collins finishes the television episode he’s watching before he figures he needs to function like a normal human again. He is, afterall, still enrolled in school. He still has to graduate and get a better job in eight months to pay bills for the things that he bought as an adult in 2017.

He pushes himself off of the couch and appreciates the fact that he doesn’t immediately feel like throwing up. It’s progress from just an hour ago, and Collins feels immensely grateful. He grabs some Cheerios from the cabinet to snack on as he pulls out his textbooks and opens his computer.

There is something relaxing to Collins about immersing himself in the world of Calculus 4 to the point where he doesn’t even realize five hours have passed until there’s knocking at his apartment door. He rubs at his face once and pushes out of his desk chair before walking to answer the door. It’s not even locked, and if it’s the person he thinks it is, there is no real reason Farrier can’t just walk in.

Collins opens the door to a dressed down Farrier with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He smiles at Collins, and Collins feels his stomach swoop. “It was open, you know.” Farrier shrugs and walks into the apartment, pulling Collins with him.

“I didn’t want to presume.” The irony isn’t lost on Collins that Farrier says this before pulling him into a kiss. “Mmm, you feeling better?”

Collins nods, a smile gracing his features for the first time in several hours. “Much.”

“Good, cause I want to take you out.”

“Out?” The request takes Collins by surprise, but he can’t deny the thought doesn’t excite him. Especially when all he’s eaten today is soup and some Cheerios.

“Yeah, well you know it’s my last night for a while, so I thought why not? You would want to, right?” Apprehension passes over Farrier’s face, so Collins rubs his thumb across the furrow in between his brows.

“God, please. Nothing would make me happier right now,” Collins says. Farrier smiles at him, and Collins thinks that he’d willingly die if it meant that Farrier would never stop smiling like that.

\------

“So I’ve got to be at the airport tomorrow at nine a.m. You going to be there?” Farrier asks Collins as they’re leaving the restaurant that night.

Collins has his hand nestled in the crook of Farrier’s bent arm as they walk down the street, people passing around them in the dim twilight of the setting sun. “I don’t see why not. Am I meeting you in front of security? What’s your plan?” It doesn’t even occur to Collins to assume anything else from Farrier’s question.

Farrier stops walking, Collins doing the same once he’s yanked back by the former not moving. “I was hinting that you sleep at mine tonight. That way we just wake up and go.” Collins feels his eyes go wide with understanding. Of course that’s what Farrier meant. Not for the two to meet at the airport, but for them to go together.

He nods maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, I think that could work.”

“‘Could work’? Nice.” Collins smacks Farrier’s arm without malice, pulling Farrier along to his apartment to grab a bag of clothes.

\------

Stepping into Farrier’s apartment is a bigger deal than Collins thought it was going to be. It’s crisper where Collins’ own feels frayed at the edges. There are very few things out of place, and he distantly remembers this being similar to the apartment they bought back in the fifties. And it’s not that Farrier doesn’t have a lot of things, he does, they’re just put away and out of sight unlike Collins’ own.

He sets his things on the floor on the side of the bed that doesn’t have as much on the nightstand, and stands there looking around at everything. Farrier comes up behind him and snakes an arm around Collins’ waist. He sets his chin on Collins’ shoulder and presses a quiet kiss to his shoulder. Collins internally swoons.

“What are you so focused on?” Farrier asks.

Collins rubs a hand along the one that’s wrapped around his waist and sighs. “You. I’m just thinking how similar your life is not to how it was then. I feel like mine is so different.”

Farrier snorts. “It’s only cause I’m a pilot still in the RAF, whereas you’re actually in school first this time around.

“Hey though, you almost turned out like last time though. You said your whole childhood was about planes. You just changed your mind.” Collins hums and turns around in Farrier’s arms.

“I think it just hit me that we don’t know anything about each other in these lives. We’re just going off old information.” It’s not such a great predicament. They do know everything from the past, but this Farrier in the present could be totally different. He could be a person that goes against Collins’ entire being, and yet here his is. He’s willing to give up his entire life for Farrier, but is it present Farrier or past Farrier that he’s going with? Collins feels like he’s jumped straight into the icy deep end and suddenly forgot how to swim.

Farrier must be able to sense Collins’ sudden trepidation that laces Collins’ works, and he’s pulling away a bit as if to placate him. “Then we do it again. We get to know each other again and learn it all. We’re young after all.”

And suddenly Collins is calmer. Farrier is right, and he knows that he knew that deep down. Of course they’ve got time to get to know each other. Collins nods and looks down at his watch. It’s nearly ten, but he feels like it’s three in the morning.

“I didn’t realize how much everything this morning really took out of me until just now. I think I’m going to lie down. Feel free to stay up though.” Collins takes his clothes into the bathroom and by the time he comes out, Farrier’s ready for bed as well.

They talk for a little while, huddled close while cars honk on the street below. If Collins tries hard enough he can forget about their situation and pretend that they’re back in their first apartment in the 1950s. Except Collins couldn’t be happier that they don’t have to face the harsh aftermath of the war again. They don’t have to endure the looks so much anymore that people would sometimes throw them as they walked past on the street. It’s simpler now, and with that thought, Collins falls asleep at around 10:45.

\------

For the first time all week, Collins feels rested when he wakes up. He doesn’t wake up in a cold sweat gasping for breath as seawater fills his lungs, or terrified of fire spreading across water. Instead, he wakes up peacefully with a warm body pressed to his side.

He’s on his side and Farrier’s on his stomach, arm draped along Collins’ waist. He thinks that they may have slept through Farrier’s alarm because of how good Collins feels. While debating on how best to wake Farrier though, the alarm goes off.

Farrier’s eyes open slowly, taking in Collins staring at him before reaching a hand out to blindly fish for his phone on the nightstand. He double checks the time and sighs. His sigh says it all, and Collins feels the same way.

“What time is it?” Collins asks. He knows that they set the alarm for 6:00, but he thinks he wants to hear Farrier’s voice, thick with sleep.

Adjusting his position so that he’s facing Collins on his side, Farrier rubs at the sport that his hand is resting on. Collins feels goosebumps erupt on his skin, but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s probably around 6:02 or :03 by now.”

“Do you reckon we should get up?”

“No, just lay here with me. I’m gonna be gone for a month. Won’t get to see you for a bit.” Farrier barely moves his mouth to speak, already closing his eyes again. Collins fights down a smile and reaches a hand up to run through the short hair on the side of Farrier’s head.

“Are you normally this bad with punctuality in the mornings?”

Farrier almost looks like he’s sleeping again, but Collins knows better. Collins rolls his eyes even though Farrier can’t see him, and sighs. “No, come on Farrier. We’ve got to get up. We both have things to do today. You’ve got to get on a plane and I’ve got to go to class at ten.”

Farrier doesn’t move, so Collins moves his own side of the comforter instead to at least get himself ready. When he goes to move though, Farrier’s grip tightens around Collins. Collins laughs quietly to himself and pulls at Farrier’s arm. “Come _on_ Farrier. I know you aren’t sleeping; get up.”

Eventually Farrier gets up and showers when, what Collins realizes must be his backup alarm, goes off. Collins is already showered and dressed by then, having wrestled himself away from a grumbling Farrier twenty minutes earlier. When Farrier comes out of the bathroom towelling off his head, Collins looks up from where he’s looking through the book on Farrier’s nightstand. Farrier watches Collins and he notes how he feels his face redden at having been caught snooping.

“Sorry, I was just seeing what you were reading. Sounds interesting, if a bit different from what I remember you liking.” Collins clears his throat and releases his hold on the book.

Farrier waves away the apology and hangs his towel on the back of the bathroom door. “Yeah I guess I’ve got a bit of a different genre taste this time around. It’s good though. You should give it a read.”

“What about the old stuff? I know you really used to like the classics.” It’s weird though, because some of the new stuff they originally grew up reading could be considered classics now. Collins thinks about amending his statement, but Farrier seems to see the dilemma himself.

He smiles and walks over to pick the book up and put it into his backpack. “Well you know with grade school they make you read the classics, but yeah, I’ve got a few on my bookshelf. Do you read?”

Collins shrugs and picks at his thumb nail. “I like to, but I don’t get much chance to with uni and stuff. Plus on top of all the textbooks, by the time I’m finished with those I don’t even want to read anymore.” Collins oftentimes finds he only has the time to read over school breaks, and even then he still has to work.

Farrier nods like he knows exactly what Collins is talking about. He goes around his room, packing a few last minute things that he’ll need for the next month. It takes maybe ten minutes before he’s got his backpack on his back and suitcase by his side.

“Well I’m set. Shall we go?”

Collins looks up at Farrier and desperately wants to say _‘No. No we can’t go. I don’t want the monotony of life three days ago to be normal again, even if only for a month.’_ Instead, he nods and gets up from Farrier’s bed to join him near the bedroom door.

The taxi takes about forty-five minutes to an hour to get to the airport, and Collins feels himself doze off a few times with his head leaned up against the window. At one point, he looks over at Farrier and nudges him with his foot.

“What time do you get in today?” Farrier told Collins last night as they were laying in bed that he was going to France to run some drills and take a couple of training courses.

Farrier looks over at Collins and smiles at how he’s sitting in his seat. “I should be there around one o’clock their time. So, noon our time. The flight’s an hour and a half.”

Collins nods and glances down at his watch. “It’s nearly half past eight now. Your flight leaves at 10:30, right? You should be fine.” He tries to smile reassuringly, but Collins can tell that Farrier isn’t buying it.

Reaching over to grab Collins’ hand instead, Farrier squeezes it as if affirming a promise that only the two of them know. “I’ll call you when I land, yeah? I’ll hang back on the plane if I have to just so the Wing Commander meeting me doesn’t make me hang up. That sound good?” His voice it quieter than it was a minute ago when they were talking about flight times, and Collins realizes that Farrier thinks the taxi driver could be listening.

Collins nods again and flips his hand over so he can lace his fingers with Farrier’s. “Your Squadron Leader is meeting you here now?” He looks out the window as the airport comes into view, and he can practically already feel the chaos that Heathrow represents.

“Yeah, he should be waiting by security. You can meet him if you want.” Collins can’t tell if Farrier is joking or not, but the thought makes his mouth go dry anyway.

He wonders briefly if the other man would recognize Collins as looking like his past self. It’s absurd though because Farrier rose through the ranks back then as well and doesn’t seem to have a problem now. Collins doesn’t say anything to Farrier about the offer, and soon they’re pulling up near the departures curb.

Sure enough, a man that Collins assumes must be Farrier’s Squadron Leader is standing right outside of security. He definitely looks older than the two of them with short, graying hair and hard eyes. He might just be old enough to still worship and know them names of the flight heroes of the second world war, but Collins hopes that isn’t the case.

As they’re walking up, Collins catches the odd glance that the Squadron Leader gives Farrier with Collins by his side, but Farrier doesn’t give any acknowledgment besides a salute. Collins reflexively salutes too, a bit of his past breaking the surface.

The Squadron Leader smiles at Collins and nods his head. “And who are you?”

Collins flushes and stutters for a second before Farrier comes to his rescue. “This is Tom Collins. He’s a friend visiting from uni, and I told him he could come send me off.”

The officer regards Collins with a curious look as if he’s trying to place a familiar face. “Collins? You wouldn’t happen to have a grandfather perhaps that flew planes in the second world war, would you? I believe he ended his service as an Ace and an Air Commodore if I’m remembering correctly.”

Collins freezes for a half second before jumping to action. “Yes, sir. Grandpa Tommo. He’s regarded as a hero back home. Never met him though.”

“Yes you look remarkably similar if I’m remembering his picture. It’s funny though, because Farrier’s grandfather here was also a pilot then too. What are the odds?”

Farrier chuckles next to Collins and he sees him shrug out of the corner of his eye. “That is a coincidence, ain’t it?” Collins would bet money that Farrier purposefully uses the word ‘coincidence’, but he’s too spooked to really react with more than a polite smile.

“Well alright, I believe we have to go. You two say goodbye; I’ll be over here when you’re finished.” The Squadron Leader steps away from the two, and Collins feels his breath leave his lungs.

“I didn’t expect him to be able to id me like that,” Collins says, turning to look at Farrier.

Farrier scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You finished as an Ace and an Air Commodore; people remember that shite.”

The idea that Farrier introduced them on purpose occurs to Collins just then. “You wanted to see if he could pick me out.” Farrier shrugs, a smug smile plays at his lips, begging to be let loose. Collins hits Farrier’s arm as if he’s offended. “You right git. Get out of here.” A disbelieving laugh escapes Collins though, and Farrier smiles the smile that Collins would die for.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go. Just--” Farrier reaches up and pushes a piece of hair away from Collins’ forehead, the latter tracing Farrier’s movements with his eyes. He’s about to pull away until he seems to think better of it.

Farrier rests his hand on Collins’ neck and moves to press his lips to his. It takes Collins by surprise for a moment because they’re in public and one of Farrier’s bosses is not too far from them. When Farrier begins to pull away though, Collins reconciles that he’s not going to see him for a month, and he grabs hold of Farrier’s shirt, pulling him closer.

When Farrier actually does pull away, Collins’ smile is small. “Come back in one piece, ok? Try not to get into too much trouble.”

Farrier smiles and drops his hand from Collins’ face. “I’ll try my best.”

And then he’s turning away and walking towards security with his Squadron Leader. Collins notices that the older man says something to Farrier, which earns him a laugh in return. Farrier looks back and waves once before Collins loses sight of him, and then he’s alone.

Collins thinks that a month really isn’t too bad with modern technology. Plus, with school and work, he’ll have plenty to do. He wants to stay at the airport for another minute, just to make sure Farrier doesn’t have any problems, but Collins has a class to get to, and lord knows he can’t be late.

 

\------

1 Month Later

Collins has had the return date for Farrier’s flight put into his phone for the past three weeks, and the time for the past week. He talks to Farrier the morning he’s supposed to get back to make sure everything is running on time before Collins plans out his day.

It’s Sunday, so he has no class and he specifically asked not to be put on the schedule at work for today. Today is about Farrier and Collins once the former gets back at noon.

Collins is at the airport by 11:45 waiting outside security in the same area where he and Farrier said goodbye a month ago. Collins is sat in a chair trying to focus on his phone, but as the time creeps closer to noon, he gets more restless. He checks the arrivals board just to make sure the plane is still on time, and sighs in relief when it it.

By 12:10, Collins is out of his seat and standing impatiently off to the side.

When he sees Farrier’s head walk through customs at 12:15, he immediately walks away from his position on the wall. Collins calls Farrier’s name, and when Farrier finds him, he breaks out into a grin.

Collins half walks-half jogs to Farrier to envelop him in a hug that Collins thinks feels reminiscent of when Farrier was released back in 1945. The circumstances are just slightly different this time.

Farrier laughs loudly in disbelief, and leans away from where his head is resting on Collins’ shoulder. He rests his forehead against Collins’, hands on either side of his face.

“Boy did I miss you. I didn’t think it’d be as hard as it was, “ Farrier murmurs before pulling Collins into a kiss that he immediately reciprocates this time, public be damned. Collins finally has Farrier back, and he wants everyone to know.

The thought of Farrier’s impending time off floats into Collins’ mind, and he smiles despite himself. They finally have mostly uninterrupted time to get to know each other. Yeah, Collins thinks the prospect of getting to know Farrier again from mostly scratch is the biggest blessing he could have been given, and they’d make the most of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: The scenario at the beginning with Collins and Farrier meeting in line actually happened in real life at a Starbucks I was at in Hawai'i. An Air Force guy was totally flirting with the girl behind him in line, telling her he was leaving at the end of the week and everything... all while the people in front of them took their sweet ass time to order everything off the menu.
> 
> Come talk to me over at culperit.tumblr.com or let me know what you thought here!


End file.
